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This blog is my blissful journal of happiness. It’s about everything I adore and people I love. Thanks for stopping by. If you would like to write me, please feel free to email me: diana.mieczan@hotmail.comHave a jolly good day!

Daily Reads

I spotted a little story this morning and it moved me to
tears. So, I thought I'd share it with you, my darlings. If you have five minutes to spare, just grab a few tissues and let yourself be inspired by a wonderful NYC taxi driver who shared one of the most important experiences of his life, as he defines it. xo

A NYC taxi driver
wrote:

I arrived at the
address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since
this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving
away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked...
'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being
dragged across the floor.

After a long
pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was
wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody
out of a 1940's movie. By her side was a
small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for
years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no
clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner
was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry
my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned
to assist the woman. She took my arm
and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking
me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her...'I just try to treat my
passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such
a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then
asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

'It's not the
shortest way,' I answered quickly..

'Oh, I don't
mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the
rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she
continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly
reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would
you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two
hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once
worked as an elevator operator. We drove through
the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds.
She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a
ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd
ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit
staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint
of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.

We drove in silence to the address she had
given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a
driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies
came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent,
watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the
trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in
a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe
you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make
a living,' she answered.

'There are other
passengers,' I responded.

Almost without
thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. 'You gave an old
woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.' I squeezed her
hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It
was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up
any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest
of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry
driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take
the run, or had honked once, then driven away?